


Red As The Shadow Of Death

by gakorogirl



Series: Hearts Like Autumn Leaves [1]
Category: Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Gen, It's not like he stayed dead, Wasn't sure about 'Major Character Death' cause I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gakorogirl/pseuds/gakorogirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd's death was the color of blood in the moonlight and dying embers. Everyone made mistakes- Bruce didn't believe in him enough, Dick believed in him too much, and in the end they came too late.</p><p>Jason Todd is young and angry and wakes up from nightmares on the rare occasions he sleeps, and sometimes his helmet looks too much like death and he covers it with a blanket. Anger, he thinks, is all he has left. His plans all dead end in his own death- again.</p><p>Jason Todd wears a helmet and a name that remind him of his death, just so he can feel like he's taking something back. He will take everything back, in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Long Time Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd was too young to die and too reckless to live. So he died once and lived once, and once he was somewhere in between. Lazarus Pits are tricky that way.

**Mount Justice**

**Roughly One Eternity Ago**

_An hour before sunset, on the evening of a day in the beginning of October, 1815, a man traveling afoot entered the little town of D______._

“That’s quite a tome you’ve got there, little wing.”

“Hi, Di- _Nightwing_ ,” said Jason, wriggling around the beanbag to look up at the older boy perched on one of the bookshelves. He waited for a moment, rubbing his thumbs over the pages of the thick book. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

“In costume, we use code names, _Robin._ Also, talk about getting to the point.” Dick laughed as he landed lightly as a falling feather, balancing perfectly on his toes for a minute. Jason had never been quite so good at the whole _graceful_ bit, even though he wasn’t any less athletic. His style had always been more… _battering ram._ Bruce said it would hurt his knees if he kept carrying on that way.

“Is there something bothering you?” asked Dick.

“Why?”

“You’ve been snapping at the rest of the Team. You went _totally_ off-mission yesterday, it’s unlike you."

  
Jason hesitated for a minute before mumbling, “It’s fine.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Well, as your team leader, I’m asking you to tell me what’s the matter." There was a long pause before Dick added, "And also as your team leader, I’m also saying that this is in _complete confidence._ No Batman, no… anybody.”

Leaning back, Jason frowned. “My real mom might still be alive,” he blurted. “I thought my parents were dead, but it turns out my mom was actually my stepmom, and I was using the Team’s computers-”

“To search for names that start with ‘S,’ right? I was wondering who was doing that.”

“I cleaned-”

“A backup copy of everything anyone searches on the Mount Justice computers goes to me. Just in case someone tries to use them for something that’s an… unintended purpose.”

“Okay, then. Anyway, I- I need to go to Ethiopia. There was one woman who fit all of my cross-references.”

“And she’s in Ethiopia?”

“Looks like it. Look, I have to try, she’s all the family I’ve got-”

For a moment, Dick looked hurt, his mouth opening once and then closing. “You need help?” he asked finally, swinging up to perch on another bookshelf. Jason shook his head.

“I want to do this myself. That’s why I don’t want to tell B- _Batman._  He wouldn't let me go anyway.”

“Caught yourself just in time there. He’ll notice right away if you don’t show up for a briefing, you know that?”

“I know. But by then I’ll be long gone. I’ve got everything ready to go, and I should be back in say, two days if this doesn’t work out. Plane tickets booked and everything.” He hesitated for a minute, gaze averted, and braced himself for an explosion of anger. _Off-mission. Selfish._

“Impressive. If you’re not back in two days, I’m going to expect a good reason.”

“Wait, what? You’re...letting me go?”

“I know you. You’re going to go no matter what.”

“True enough. See you in two days, maybe a little more.” Jason scowled at his book, wondering if there was any way he could fit it into his cramped luggage. Maybe if he ditched some of the civilian clothes he could cram it in, but then his bag would be heavy as _hell._ It wasn’t like he hadn’t already read this one, anyway. With a small sigh, he tucked it back onto the bookshelf.

“Remember,” called Dick, “If you’ll be more than two days-”

“I know, okay? Wish me luck!”

“You don’t need luck, you’re _a Robin._ We don’t do luck.”

In retrospect, he should have knocked on wood. Two days passed, and then three, and then four, and no communication came through from Jason.

And for the next month, Kaldur ran the Team while Dick locked himself in his room- although when someone thought to check the security feed to see if he was okay, the room was deserted. Batman didn’t show up either, and Black Canary gave them their mission assignments. _“What if Robin’s dead?”_ came murmurs, after a week with no word.

_“Nah, he just ran off and got himself in a hospital ward. Maybe even a coma. Or else he was running a mission for the big bad Bat, got roughed up.”_

_“Well, maybe Nightwing and Robin and Batman went off to do some kind of mission.” “I haven’t heard of any trouble in Gotham, though.” “Maybe...bonding time?”_

After two weeks, the whispering was louder, worried, more insistent. Batman had never been away for so long, except when there was trouble in Gotham. And while the news barely bothered to mention anything about Gotham any more (it stopped being headline material after a while) something more than the usual trouble should have been picked up by the media. The psychic link was cluttered with worries and stray thoughts.

_“Dying’s kind of an occupational hazard. He knew that.”_

_“Listen, he’s not dead. Not Jay. He couldn’t be.”_

_“I worry for him. He was growing reckless.”_

_“I… I think maybe he’s dead.”_

_“Wish someone would tell us.”_

In the end, they were told a very rough outline of events. Jason had found his biological mother in Ethiopia. She had betrayed him to the Joker. Both of them had been caught in an explosion, neither survived. The Joker escaped.

Trying to be as kind as possible, the League spared the details, how when Bruce found his body every major bone was broken and his hands and feet were smashed, how underneath the burns his flesh had already been torn apart and shredded, how death might have been a small mercy.

Nobody on the Team- except for Dick, who knew, and perhaps M’gann, who had been overwhelmed by the flickers of memory and emotion radiating off of him- stayed awake at night thinking about splintered teeth and bloody lips, shoulder blades crushed the wrong way and spread out like wings, fingernails half-worn away and caked with ash. Perhaps it _was_ better that way, for everyone.

And nobody, nobody, ever realized that his last thought was not a cry for help, but for vengeance. (But it wasn’t even for himself, oh no- it was for every other corpse the Joker left behind. He just hoped that with his death, the Joker would finally come to justice. For _everything._ )

 

**Mount Justice**

**Five Years Later**

**October 3, 22:30**

“Sorry I’m late,” said Jason, leaning against a chunk of ash-flecked rubble. Looked like a few pretty big bombs had gone off in here, and from the scorch marks on, well, _everything,_ they’d probably been placed right in the middle of the training deck. Even the safe rooms weren’t much more than a few big, melty hunks of metal.

“I kind of died. Hope that’s enough of an excuse, but if I need a doctor’s note…”

Wouldn’t hurt to poke around a little and see if anything had survived the explosion. Then again, the Team was pretty clearly still alive, and they would have scavenged this place clean after the initial blast. Jason picked his way through the wreckage, noticing that someone had set up a few pressure pads and trip wires. He avoided most of them, unsheathing a short knife to deal with those that were unavoidably in his way.

This was probably more trouble than it was worth. Jason rolled his eyes under the red helmet and made his way back to his motorcycle, and the engine rumbled as he took off for Gotham City. The sunset was as red as blood on iron, red as burning. He kept his eyes on the road, weaving between cars on his way.

In the morning, when he reached the city, he could put the first step of the plan into effect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! A few important notes, I suppose, before we get into the main part of the story. This is a sort of combination of the Batman: Under The Red Hood comic and the animated movie, with a few additions of my own to incorporate the Team and keep the pace moving.
> 
> Barbara isn't dead, but she's under deep cover overseas and doesn't appear in this story. Code names will not usually be used in narration, only in dialogue. (For example, I refer to Bruce as Bruce unless someone's actively referring to him as Batman.)
> 
>  
> 
> This might be my longest fic yet, it's certainly the most fun I've had writing something in a long time. I have a pretty decent backlog of chapters, too. Enjoy! :D


	2. Blood, Bullets, Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Hood has arrived in Gotham. His plan is a simple one, to catch the Bat's attention and draw him towards the final conflict (and to clean up Gotham a little on the way.)

**Gotham City**

**October 4, 04:20**

_ “It was a pleasure to burn.” _

Jason had found a conveniently abandoned warehouse to hole up in while he planned his next move. There were a few boxes left, dusty and a little soggy in one corner. Upon splitting them open with a short knife, he had been pleasantly surprised to find they were full of books.

He moved the books to the side- tossing any mildewy ones into a heap, and setting a few in a stack to read later- as he pondered his next actions. He’d need to wear his helmet if he went out on the streets. With his resurrection had come a few...visual side effects, his bright blue eyes lightening to a glassy grey and broad streaks of white appearing in his bangs. That, combined with nearly five years of aging,  _ should  _ be enough to keep him from being recognized by most people. Bruce, though, Bruce might recognize him. Better to be safe than sorry, and stick to the shadows.

He flipped the pages of another book, noticing that water damage had swollen them slightly. Nothing irreversible, though. He dropped it into the main stack. 

He didn’t really feel the need for food or sleep any more, and he could go without them for much longer than a  _ proper  _ human, but without them his body would eventually collapse. Last time that had happened, he had woken up in an alley in Cairo with only blurry memories of the hours before he had passed out. 

Jason frowned and checked the time. Twenty-four hours since he’d last slept, too long for his body to stay in peak condition. With a small sigh, he curled up in the driest of the empty boxes and closed his eyes, struggling to clear his mind for a few moments. 

His thoughts burned in the old familiar pattern, just the way they had since he had discovered that Bruce never killed the Joker. Instead, the Joker had been thrown in Arkham, and as always, the Joker had treated it as no more than a mild inconvenience and escaped.

_ Bruce didn’t care enough. He couldn’t kill the Joker. _

_ He replaced me. What did it take, a year? Less? _

_ Even if I don’t matter to him, what about everyone else? Hundreds of fatalities every time the Joker escapes, every time the Batman lets him live. How does it feel, Bruce? Do you even care? _

_ Ineffective. _

_ Abandoned me. _

_ Weak. _

Jason fell asleep, and the angry snarl that had twisted his face slowly melted away. He smiled softly in his sleep, and he looked less like seventeen and more like twelve.

 

**Gotham City**

**October 4, 22:30**

The group of gangsters bickered uneasily in the low light, casting glances up into the shadows of the warehouse now and then. “Whose meet is this, anyway?” someone snarled. One of the highest-ranking street dealers in the city, or anywhere for that matter. What  _ scum _ . Useful scum, though.

Jason’s mouth curled in a dry smile as he moved silently among the rafters. Their eyes were dazzled by the cheap lamp in the middle of the table, they couldn’t spot anything away from the light. He could have been standing right in the open and looked like not much more than a blurry shadow, as long as he was still in darkness.

One of the gangsters stood, pushing his chair away from the table. 

_ “Sit down.”  _ Jason’s voice rang out through the warehouse, slightly deepened and distorted by his helmet. “It’s my meeting,” he added, still in shadows.

“Batman?” gasped one of the dealers, reaching for what was no doubt a concealed firearm under his coat. “We didn’t do nothin’-”

Jason stepped into the light, leaning over the railing of one of the catwalks that crossed the ceiling. “Well, we all know that’s a lie.” 

He rather liked the feeling of having everyone looking at him, not immediately recognizing him as another  _ Robin _ . Even more, he liked knowing that this time around, he didn’t have to hold back from using lethal force, didn’t have to worry about cracking a few extra skulls.

It was a good feeling, he decided, and frowned a little behind his helmet as he saw that some of the gangsters were pointing guns at him.

_ You’d think stupid was a job requirement.  _ It wasn’t the first time he’d thought it, and it wouldn’t be the last. Bullets rattled across the table, riddling it with smoking holes, and the gangsters leapt out of the way, covering their heads as splinters sprayed through the air.

“I said  _ sit down,”  _ he snarled.

“You wanna die?” yelled the dealer who had tried to leave earlier. “There’s easier ways to kill yourself!”

“Yeah, like yelling at the guy who’s holding the AK-47.” Jason leaned forwards a little more, shifting into a more comfortable position as he rested on one arm. He sighed a little, the breath echoing inside his helmet to make a noise like blowing on a styrofoam cup. “Listen to me, you drug-peddling scumbags. From now on,  _ I  _ will be running the drug trade. You eight are the most prosperous street dealers in Gotham. I’m offering you morons a deal. You go about your business as usual, but kick up forty percent to me. That’s a much sweeter deal than the scraps Black Mask is leaving you. In return, you will have total protection from both Black Mask and Batman.”

He saw their eyes widen a little, wondering just  _ who  _ he was. Good. As long as he was confident enough about taking on Gotham’s big guns, these dirtbags would stay afraid of him. And people who were afraid tended to be a lot less nosey. “The catch? You stay away from kids and schoolyards. No dealing to children, got it?” His voice grew softer, more dangerous.

“If you do, you’re dead.”

“Okay, crazy man.”  _ Someone’s not convinced,  _ Jason thought. “This is all very generous, but why the hell should we listen to you?”

Time for the trump card. Wordlessly, Jason slung a black duffel bag over the catwalk railing, where it landed with a dull  _ thud  _ on the table. One of the gangsters reached forwards and gingerly unzipped it.

“Damn.”

“Inside the bag,” said Jason, thoroughly enjoying the shocked expressions on the gangsters’ faces, “Are the heads of all your lieutenants. That took me two hours. Want to see what I can get done in a whole evening?” (Really, it had taken a little more than two hours, but he had been slacking a little.) “Mind you, I’m not asking you to kick in with me. I’m telling you.”

He fired on the table again, scattering the gangsters and tearing the duffel bag full of oozing holes. Before they could look up, he tossed a smoke bomb into the middle of the room and slipped away as bitter-smelling fog spread through the warehouse.

He had a new safe house now, a sparsely furnished apartment. To make himself look less suspicious to the landlady, he’d moved in a few shelves and a lot of the books from the warehouse, as well as a sealed crate that he didn’t tell her contained his collection of decorative knives from various cultures.

On the chance that the annoyingly cheerful woman might be around somewhere, Jason let himself in through a window that he’d left unlocked. Of course, nobody sane would leave their windows unlocked in Gotham, but anyone who broke into his apartment would find themselves dealing with much more than they’d bargained for.

Jason took off his helmet and dropped it onto one of the shelves, where it spun for a moment. In the moonlight, the vibrant red was somewhat diluted, and it shone almost silvery at the edges. It looked uncomfortably similar to the moonlight shining on the blood-splattered crowbar-

_ No,  _ thought Jason savagely, forcing his thoughts into a pattern again. He slung one of his spare blankets over the helmet, and the fabric settled slowly over it and hid it from sight.

_ Bruce says he doesn’t kill people, but what does he do by letting the Joker live?  _ he thought, and the anger and the pain was familiar and comforting as he sat on his bed, crossing his legs.  _ I wonder how he justifies it. I wonder if it haunts him. It should. _

_ He’s ineffective. He’s practically useless for the big villains. _

_ He abandoned me, he didn’t avenge me or anyone else. He doesn’t care. _

_ He doesn’t care. _

Jason slept and he dreamed of the Joker, and death, and fear. But tonight, he also dreamed of revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason was thirteen when he died. He is eighteen now. (This, by absolutely no coincidence, matches up with Dick's ages in the show.) 
> 
> He has four white streaks in his hair. I know there's really only one, but a messy patchwork of white and black hair seemed like a more legitimate effect of a Lazarus Pit than just one little white streak. So that's what I did.
> 
> Anyhap, I love reviews! :D


	3. The First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step of Jason's plan: To hijack the Black Mask's shipments, especially one certain set of unmarked crates, and use the resulting chaos to draw in the Bat.
> 
> The appearance of Nightwing and Tigress was not at all part of the plan.

**Gotham City Docks**

**October 5, 21:00**

“What are you doing here?” demanded Bruce in an angry whisper, his eyes visibly furious even under the mask. Tigress and Nightwing glanced at each other nervously.

“You talk to him,” said Artemis flatly.

“We heard there was a shipment of Amazo parts coming in for Black Mask,” said Dick. He looked around curiously. “Where’s Tim? Thought he was taking a few weeks off to help out in Gotham.” 

“Right here,” said Tim as he vaulted onto the metal shipping crate behind them.

“What are you doing here?”

“Got bored at home.”

Dick twirled one of his Eskrima sticks, intently surveying the crew unloading the crates. Behind him, Tim and Bruce argued (or more accurately, Bruce argued. Tim was watching the unloading with almost as much intensity as Dick, saying as little as possible.) “If we’re lucky, the memory wipes the League tried before the parts were stolen have made Amazo a clean slate, with no powers to speak of.”

“We’re never lucky,” muttered Artemis. “What’s the worse-case scenario?”

“Amazo has the powers of at least eight members of the League, maybe more.”

“Where did Batman and Robin go?”

He’d almost missed them leaving, but the movement of Tim’s cape out of the corner of his eye had tipped him off. Pointing to the docks, he said, “There.” Bruce was moving fast, leaping between the thugs as they dropped, one by one. 

Frowning, he jumped off the shipping crates, with Artemis following. Bullets sprayed across the metal crates just above their heads, and Dick jumped at the gunmen, cracking their heads together in a quick movement. “These are some nice guns,” he said as he ripped another gun out of the hands of the nearest thug. “You get these at some high-tech gun show or off the Internet?” He tossed the gun over his shoulder to Tim, who caught it in one hand without breaking stride.  _ Impressive.  _ Tim maybe wasn’t the greatest at the whole roof-jumping thing, but his hand-eye coordination was spectacular.

“D.E.O.,” said Tim, aiming a sharp spinning kick at the head of a thug who was trying to sneak up to him. The thug staggered, off-balance, and Artemis grabbed his head and threw him into the water. “Stolen three weeks ago.”

“Good work,” said Dick, and Tim grinned. “They must have really wanted to guard these shipments. Too bad we showed up.”

Dick flipped over the shoulders of the last guard and kicked him in the face with both feet, snapping his head back and crumpling his nose. The guard crumpled, and Dick landed in a crouch before straightening up and brushing a few flecks of blood off of his costume. “Should we check the boxes, make sure everything’s here?”

“Yes,” said Bruce, already striding over towards the crates. “The lids are clean of explosives.” He stiffened, taking a step back. “But the crates aren’t. Get back!”

Tim, Dick, and Artemis dived for cover as the crates exploded upwards in a fiery burst, heat beating against their faces. Flames licked at the supports of the wooden pier. “This dock is going down if those fires keep burning,” said Dick. Artemis sat up, looking towards the ruins of the crates. Amazo had reassembled himself, slightly scorched from the explosion, and was looming over Bruce.

“Time to move,” she announced, and leapt forwards. Amazo looked up, its red eyes narrowing as the three heroes came towards it.

_ “You are outmatched. I will end this quickly.” _

Bruce moved, flipping easily over the android’s head and dropping a series of smoke bombs. As Amazo moved to swat away the bombs, they sprayed a clinging yellow smoke over its body. It staggered, leaving an opening for Artemis to attack and slice her sword at the exposed wires in the insides of its elbows.

“Looks like it doesn’t have Martian powers right now,” said Tim.

_ “You will have to do better than that,”  _ Amazo droned as it swatted Artemis away, a few sparks leaking from the severed wires. She rolled in midair and landed on her feet, breathing hard.

“I did,” said Bruce. The batarang planted in Amazo’s calf beeped a few times and exploded, ripping the exterior of the leg off and revealing the metal skeleton underneath.

As they ran down the crumbling pier, Tim asked, “Will that do any good?”

“It’ll slow it down,” said Bruce.

“Not sure about that,” Artemis shouted as she glanced over her shoulder to see Amazo already on its feet again, loping towards them with long, stiff strides. Its heavy feet clanged on the wood, sending ash and sparks into the air as it moved.

_ “You avoid the inevitable,”  _ boomed Amazo behind them.

Tim frowned. “I think we just made him mad.”

“A distraction would be handy right about now,” said Artemis, and Dick smiled.

“We can make our own.”

 

As Amazo’s eyes glowed and shot lasers, the heroes scattered. The beams carved a burning swath through the concrete, and the pavement melted and shimmered. “Superman’s eye lasers,” said Dick.

“That’s cute,” added Artemis. Amazo growled and turned towards them, only for Bruce to leap up behind it and slap a dark paste over its eyes. The android tilted its head, seeming almost confused.

_ “Putty will hardly impede my blasts, Batman.” _

An explosion rocked the ground, and Amazo roared and staggered backwards, raising its hands to the deep, burning holes where its eyes should have been. “Nope,” said Dick brightly, “but firing heat vision through plastique explosives will.” 

The Batmobile roared around a corner, slamming into Amazo and racing down one of the piers. The android was thrown into the water, oil spraying from its ruined face, and an explosion rocked the docks.

“You think that took it out?” asked Artemis.

“Maybe,” said Dick. “It looked like it only had a few powers, and the plastique combined with the impact from the Batmobile should have damaged it enough to let it sink to the bottom of the bay and rust.”

“Look up there!” Tim called, pointing at the rooftops where a red-masked figure could be seen silently watching them. Bruce narrowed his eyes, immediately in motion, and Tim followed. As the two fired grappling hooks at the roof and shot upwards, Artemis looked at Dick.

“Are we going with them?”

He nodded, and she leapt onto the fire escape and began to swing herself from level to level, moving almost as fast as he did as he grappled up to the rooftop. The figure had already jumped to the next roof, running with long, easy strides, and Bruce and Tim were in hot pursuit.

“You know him?” called Dick, but Bruce shook his head.

“No, and at the moment I don’t care. Just get him!”

The figure jumped across the perilous gaps between rooftops without any trace of hesitation, his head angled slightly forwards and down. Something about his long, reckless leaps and squared shoulders seemed familiar, but Dick couldn’t place where he’d seen someone move that way before. 

As the figure leapt across the next gap, Bruce jumped forwards and threw a batarang which trailed a long cable behind it. The cable wrapped around one of the figure’s legs, and he twisted in the air as he fell to slice through it with a short knife. As Bruce pulled the line, it came slack, the frayed end snaking across the roof.

“He did not just do that,” murmured Artemis, shocked. "It didn't even go taut."

“No way he makes the next jump,” called Tim, panting a little as he ran. 

He made the jump, free-falling four stories and smashing through a glass skylight into the warehouse below. Dick and Bruce, now in the lead, skidded to a stop and perched at the edge of the building, looking down.

“He’s good,” said Dick.

“Come on,” said Bruce, already leaping off with a cable trailing behind him. Before he hit the ground, he pulled the cable taut and lowered himself the final few feet, landing in a fighting crouch. There was no sign of the masked man, and the other heroes lowered themselves down into an empty warehouse.

“He’s gone.”

“I’ll check the glass for blood samples,” said Tim, dropping into a squat and sifting through the shards that littered the warehouse floor.

“Good thinking,” Dick said, and joined him. After a moment, he held up a shard that held both a small scrap of grey fabric and a sizeable smear of blood. “Found some,” he said, holding it up in the moonlight. Bruce plucked it out of his hand.

“I’m taking that.”

Dick nodded, quietly slipping a few more bloodstained splinters of glass into one of the compartments in his gauntlets. “We should head back to the Earthside Base,” he said as he stood. Tim watched him take the glass, frowning, but said nothing.

 

**Gotham City**

**October 6, 01:00**

Jason was tense. He rocked on the balls of his feet, looking out the window, and his muscles were primed for action. Meditation hadn’t done much, and a few rounds of punches delivered to the punching bag he’d hung by the door hadn’t helped too much either. (And his landlady was at the door wanting to know what was going on.)

He told himself that there was no way they could track him here, not in so short a time. But the sight of Dick and Artemis- who was dressed in a tiger mask and catsuit now, for some reason, and looked like she was using a sword- had shaken him almost as badly as the sight of Bruce. Maybe worse, because it was unexpected.

They shouldn’t be here. Bruce, and the replacement Robin, he had planned for. Members of the Team appearing in Gotham, not so much. He sighed, settling down in bed. It was time to sleep, but he couldn’t sleep like  _ this.  _ Without looking, he grabbed a book off the shelf and opened it.

_ “First the colors. Then the humans. That’s usually how I see things.” _

Jason almost laughed. He hadn’t read this book since, well, he had died. (Although long before that, it had been one of his favorites.) He read for a while, and then pressed his lips together, lingering on a line.

_ “The question is, what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you?” _

_ It was red,  _ thought Jason, and he shuddered a little without realizing it.  _ Iron stained deep red and red cloth dyed redder with blood. _

He put the book down and slipped out the open window, ignoring the dull ache in his strained muscles as he swung silently from rooftop to rooftop. It was time for him to find something to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have our first major divergence from the actual canon! I'm combining the comics and movies for each of these scenes, as well as cutting out and adding a few parts to keep the pace going. But mostly, I've tried to keep the best parts of the dialogue, although different characters have different lines in this version.
> 
> As always, I love reviews! :D


	4. Hollow Mask, Hollow Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was always fierce and stubborn, but he used to be bright, too, and full of life and laughter. Now, his laughter is more often than not a mimicry, a mask like the helmet he uses to hide his face. (Sometimes it's real. But it tastes like ash on his tongue and embers in his throat.)

**Mount Justice**

**April 10**

**Many Years Ago**

“Watch your back,” said Dick warningly, dodging one of Jason’s punches. The kid fought aggressively, maybe too aggressively, and had the pain tolerance of an ox (although it was better than hanging back and trying to dodge every punch) and Dick was having a surprisingly hard time knocking him down.

But his punches were short, abrupt, and he didn’t move with the speed that he would need to if he were facing major villains. Sure, street thugs and gangsters would have trouble beating him, but anyone more skilled wouldn’t have much of a problem. Dick easily flipped over Jason’s back and kicked him in the head, just powerfully enough to unbalance him. As Jason turned, he kicked again, but this time Jason caught the strike in both hands.

“Good reflexes,” said Dick, impressed. He yanked his foot downwards and pulled Jason to the ground. “But you’ll need to be careful grabbing onto people like that.” He relaxed just a moment too early, watching Kaldur coming in from the kitchen. "You know, you take too many hits. If someone's coming for you with some kind of club, you can only take a few blows before-"

“I’m always careful,” interrupted Jason with a grin, twisting his head to look up at the older boy. He rolled, pulling on the foot that he still held in both hands, and Dick crashed to the ground.

In the entryway to the kitchen, Kaldur dropped his cup of water. (Thankfully, Red Tornado had replaced all the glasses with plastic after the last time Conner had punched a cabinet. Kaldur caught the water itself, directing it into the sink, and the cup clattered on the floor.)

“Hi, Kaldur,” said Jason, sitting up. “Can I call him his real name?” he added to Dick, who was laying flat on his face and laughing. Rolling onto his back, Dick took a deep breath to compose himself.

“Go ahead,” he replied. “Code names rule only applies to you, me, and Batman. I didn’t make it, but that’s what it is.”

“You want to spar again?” asked Jason brightly.

“Maybe you should slow down a little,” said Dick, noticing that Jason was swaying a little on his feet.

“Come on, it’s boring here with no bad guys to fight,” Jason said, turning a few handsprings. His arms shook a little and he flipped back onto his feet, rubbing his wrists. “Although I guess I’m a little sore from fighting Wally earlier. Thought we’d agreed on no powers.”

“You did,” said Dick. “He totally cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat!” Wally protested, zipping into the room. “Or- well, he cheated first. He _scratched me!”_ Red marks were still visible along his cheek, and he rubbed at them with a rueful grin.

“You want a rematch?” asked Dick, an impish smile spreading across his face. Jason laughed and hooked his fingers like claws.

“Geez, no,” said Wally, and was gone with a crackle of lightning.

“You know,” said Jason, “You’re a lot cooler than I thought you’d be from all the stuff Alfred and B- _Batman_ said about you.”

Dick laughed and responded, “I feel like there’s some selective memory going on with them. Anyway, you need to rest. Go watch some TV or something.” A holographic globe appeared in front of him and he frowned, sifting through the data of the year’s major earthquakes. Jason loitered for a moment and then slipped away.

 

**Earthside Base, Blüdhaven**

**October 7, 11:00**

“It cannot be,” said Kaldur. “Have you-”

“Checked the system for any bugs? Tried multiple samples? Yes. Everything matches him.” Dick leaned forwards and stared at the screen, restarting the comparison between the blood samples from the glass and a blood sample taken from Jason years earlier. _Maybe it’ll come up differently this time,_ he thought.

MATCH, flashed the DNA analysis after a few long, agonizing minutes, and Dick slumped forwards. He rubbed his head and sighed.

“How could this happen?” asked Kaldur. His pale eyes were no longer shocked, but focused and thoughtful. Dick was surprised at how calmly the Atlantean was taking the news, but then again, he was always like that. Introspective, quiet.

“There’s ways to bring someone back from the dead,” said Dick with a shrug. “Wally’s back, isn’t he?” True, Wally hadn’t really been _dead,_ but he had seemed so.

Kaldur nodded slowly, his face still pensive. “Will you tell the rest of the Team?”

“Not sure yet. A lot of the newer members don’t know Jason as anything more than a hologram at the Watchtower, so it wouldn’t mean much to them that he’s back. But everyone who thought he was dead…”

“Who’s not dead?” asked a voice behind them.

“M’gann, I thought you were at the Watchtower-”

She fixed him with an even gaze, and he tensed, already throwing up the mental blocks he used against Scarecrow’s fear toxins. They hadn’t worked very well, but they were better than nothing, and-

“You look...worried,” said M’gann, her face falling. “Did you really think I was going to read your mind without saying something?” She walked over to the computer and sighed, looking up at the screen, and Dick relaxed as he let the mental barricades fall. “I felt him,” M'gann added softly.

“What?”  
“I thought, about two years before the Reach invasion, that I could _sense_ him again. I can feel all of you, sort of. I felt when Wally disappeared, I felt when Jason died- but I didn’t want to say anything then, because I hoped I might have been wrong. I hoped maybe he’d still be okay.” She sighed. “I should have told you when I sensed him again, but it was... impossible. I must have been mistaken.”

“You said two years before the invasion?”

“Maybe three. A long time ago.”

“That would make sense. These blood samples would indicate that he’s about five years older than he was when he ‘died.’” He made air quotes with his left hand, using the right to run yet another test on the blood samples. MATCH, said the computer.

“He ‘died’ five years ago,” said Kaldur. “Maybe he never really…”

“I said _about,_ not _exactly_ five years. He could have stayed dead for a year or so.” Dick sighed deeply and added, “I know I promised not to lie to the Team again, but I’ve been doing some research and if Jason really is the Red Hood… it looks like whatever happened brought out the worst in him. He’s not our Jason any more.”

 

**Gotham City**

**October 8, 02:35**

_“Nightwing to Wonder Girl, are you in position?”_

“Wonder Girl to Nightwing, I’m here,” said Cassie, in a whisper. “I know it’s impossible, but a psychic link would be really useful right about now.” She edged carefully along the catwalk, peering down at the gangsters below. The communicator in her hand crackled, and she drew back from the edge as a few of the men looked up.

_“Robin should be meeting you at the rendezvous point.”_

“Got it.”

_“Remember-”_

“If I see the Red Hood, don’t let him know my name or powers.” She had covered her trademark Wonder Woman insignia with a lightweight black jacket and cut her hair (she’d been meaning to change up her style a little, anyway.)

“ _I was going to say, remember you’re on a stealth mission. And please don’t blow anything up, unless you want to explain it to Batman.”_

“Remind me again why I’m on this mission? Shouldn’t you have sent Batgirl or someone?”

_“Batgirl’s still under deep cover. And I figured you needed to see your boyfriend. He’s been in Gotham for a while now. Besides, you aren’t really that bad at stealth. Just remember to think before you act.”_

Cassie tucked the communicator into a pocket of her jacket and shifted back to the edge of the catwalk, listening to the criminals arguing with each other. She frowned and glanced out the window, wondering where Tim was. It wasn’t like him to be late at all.

“I’m fed up with this garbage,” one of the men snarled. “We threw in with the Black Mask, right? We kick up a cut of everything we bring in, and in return-”

“This Red Hood psycho keeps icing our guys,” said another. “So what do you want to do, make a deal with the Red Hood?”  
The first man spoke again, leaning forward intently. His voice lowered, and Cassie tilted her head to hear better. “I had these five runners who worked Kellington Avenue over by the high school,” he said. “They were found decapitated last week.”

Cassie sat back, frowning. She thought she heard footsteps on the catwalk behind her, too quiet for most humans to make out, but in keeping with her disguise as a rookie vigilante she didn’t turn. _How’s_ that _for thinking before you act?_ When a voice spoke behind her, she turned, shifting her weight into a defensive crouch.

“Those morons, runners, _earners_ of his were pushing drugs to twelve-year-olds,” said the Red Hood, looming over her. Dick had assured her that this guy didn’t have any superpowers to speak of, although he hadn’t told her just why he was so certain.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi. Thought I felt my ears burning.” He laughed, a dry and rasping noise that sounded somehow forced- or was that just the echo inside his helmet?

“The Red Hood.”

“Very astute. What was your first clue?” Jason frowned under the mask, looking thoughtfully at the girl in front of him. He didn’t recognize her, bright blue eyes and spiky blonde hair dyed red at the tips. She was wearing a simple black getup, so… probably not Team. Even in stealth mode, he remembered, they’d have their trademark insignia prominently displayed.

“Don’t move,” said the girl, standing and dropping into a fighting stance. She was clumsy. Probably just a gun for hire, or some kind of rookie hero.

“Why?” he asked as he moved to his knees, leaning between two rails to look down at the dealers below. “You planning on taking my picture?”

Cassie tapped her pocket lightly, making sure that the communicator was recording, before moving to stand next to the masked man. He was taller than her, but not by much, and broad-shouldered. Still, with no powers, she could beat this guy easily.

“What have I missed?” he asked. “Besides the fact that these guys would love my head on a pike.” He gave the strange, humorless laugh again, dropping into a crouch as he leaned over the side of the catwalk.

“They want to know why the Black Mask hasn’t taken you out himself.”

“I guess that tells us I’m either very lucky or very good. Either way,” he said, and she could hear a smile in his voice even through the distortion from the helmet, “I seem to have made myself an enemy of all the bad guys.”

Jason hadn’t missed the girl fiddling with something in her pocket. After this was done, he’d need to get that and destroy it, whatever it was. She probably wouldn’t even notice it was gone until later.

 

**Earthside Base**

**October 8, 02:40**

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Bruce, appearing on the screen in front of Dick.

“Trying to contact Tim,” Dick answered evasively. “I was talking to him until just a few minutes ago, and then we just lost contact. You should really check on him.”

Bruce frowned slightly. “Cassie is in Gotham. Why?”

“I sent her to check on something and meet up with Tim.”

“Something?”

Dick sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand before going back to trying to pinpoint Tim’s signal. He didn’t look directly at Bruce, staring off to one side of the screen instead. “I know you ran tests on the blood from the broken glass. I did too.”

“What did you find?”

He knew Bruce was hoping that they wouldn’t match. That he’d found something different. “Jason,” he said, and pressed his lips together. “A few years older, but alive. I checked that, too, he’s not… undead or anything like that.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Bruce.


	5. Live to Fight Another Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is still missing (it's so unlike him to be late, Cassie worries) and Jason is not having the best possible night.

**Mount Justice**

**June 1**

**Many Years Ago**

“How’s Jason doing?” asked Bruce, and Dick frowned a little, exchanging a glance with Kaldur. It was Kaldur who spoke, in his typical straightforward manner.

“He is not a perfect soldier. He is reckless and has little regard for the lives of our opponents. Still, we have worked with worse.” He smiled slightly as he added, “But he is compassionate. Many times over the past months, he has risked his life to protect civilians.”

“Sometimes when another member of the Team would do better getting them out,” cut in Dick, but Kaldur shrugged.

“It is a worthy trait. He will be a good hero, when he gets a little older.”   
Bruce’s face softened. “Good,” he said. “I was...worried about how he would adapt to the Team. It’s good to know that he’s doing well.”

“I mean, Conner only threw him through like  _ one  _ wall. That’s a new record, I think,” said Dick.

“That reminds me, we need to ask Red Tornado for a new television. Conner liked the static.”

“Couldn’t we just get Conner a white noise generator?”

There were footsteps behind them, and both boys turned to see Jason standing in the doorway, the hem of his long cape brushing against the carpet. “I liked when you were saying good stuff about me,” he said with a big, crooked smile. “Can we do that again?”

Dick laughed. “Maybe later, little wing. I have a mission for you right now.” 

 

**Gotham City**

**October 8, 02:45**

“The dude on the left, that’s Marlon Stone. He’s running what’s left of the East Side traffic,” the Red Hood told Cassie. She stayed silent and tried to look attentive. “Next to him, that’s Jay Kirano, he’s mostly a distribution guy. He prefers being street muscle, but I don’t think the Black Mask likes him as a soldier. He’s got too much of a temper.”

“I can relate,” said Cassie, and the Red Hood chuckled. Inside the helmet, his laughter made a noise like blowing on the inside of a styrofoam cup.

“That last piece of garbage, that’s Teddy Reese.” The laughter faded out of the helmeted man’s voice, replaced with a sharp, dangerous edge. Cassie looked between him and the thin-faced man below. “Human trafficking,” said the Red Hood. “Kids.”

“Got it.”

“So,” said the Red Hood, straightening up and stretching his hands over his head, “You wanna take these guys down?” Cassie glanced at him, a little surprised, but nodded. He tossed a smoke bomb onto the table, where it exploded in a thin haze of gray smoke, and leapt down from the catwalk. Cassie followed him, floating for a moment before realizing that she wasn’t meant to use her powers. She dropped out of the air, landing on the table and smashing it in half.

Someone tried to grab her, and she swung a kick to their chest, barely remembering to hold back so as not to send the man flying through a wall or two. Bones cracked under the pressure. She spun and grabbed the shirt of another thug, bunching the fabric in her hand as she slammed him into the broken table. Blood sprayed from his shattered nose, and he screamed.

_ This is harder than I thought,  _ Cassie decided as a bullet bounced off of her back, knocking her forwards. The Red Hood, busy dodging between the remaining gunmen and beating them into the floor, didn’t seem to notice.

“Stay airborne,” he called, kicking off one of the walls and doing a tight midair flip before landing on one of the gunmen’s shoulders and tearing the weapon out of his hands. “It’ll make it harder for them to get a clear shot.” He flipped off the man’s shoulders. The momentum of the movement sent the guy staggering forwards, and Cassie punched him in the face. There was a dull thump as he slumped to the floor, breathing shallowly.

“There’s too many of them!” Cassie shouted as more thugs appeared. Of course, not too many for her at full power, but in disguise as a small-time vigilante she figured she should be feeling a little overwhelmed. The Red Hood glanced around and nodded sharply. 

“Get the door,” he said, jerking his head towards a side door. She dodged a few bullets and elbowed one of the guys hard enough to send him crashing across the warehouse, then kicked open the door.

“Got it!” 

As they ran out into the chilly night air, Cassie added, “Little bit of a fiasco, but you know what they say about ‘living to fight another day…’”

“Oh, I think we’ll do just fine today,” said the Red Hood, pulling a machine gun out of a crate Cassie hadn’t noticed before. He turned and rained bullets at their attackers, and she gasped as blood sprayed across the ground.

“Stop!” she screamed, as the last thugs crumpled, peppered with oozing bullet holes. Their clothes were frayed, and blood dripped out of the corners of their mouths and their noses. For a moment, Cassie had almost forgotten that the Red Hood was a  _ bad guy.  _ And she’d never seen anyone-well, besides a few supervillains-  mow down that many people without flinching.

“Why?” asked the Red Hood. He turned, shoving the barrel of the machine gun to her chest.

“You did not just do that,” said Cassie, wrinkling her nose. “It’s  _ rude  _ to point guns at people you’ve just  _ met,”  _ she added, and grabbed the barrel of the gun in her hand, squeezing until the metal crumpled.

The Red Hood looked down at the ruined gun and dropped it to the ground, taking a step back. “You’re Wonder Girl and I’m an idiot,” he said flatly. “Although… mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Seriously? A haircut and a new jacket makes it  _ that  _ hard to recognize me?”  _ And a load of makeup to change the outlines of my face, and the lack of star earrings or a lasso. But still, it’s not like I wear a mask. Dude should know who I am. _

“Look,” she said, “I’m having a bad day. My boyfriend was supposed to meet me here, and it’s very unlike him to be late, I was just shot at by a bunch of thugs, and my cover was blown. So just put your hands behind your head-”

“Your boyfriend is Robin, right?”

“Um, yeah. Like the media didn’t have a field day on that one.”

Before she could grab him, the Red Hood dropped another smoke bomb onto the ground. This one emitted a thick black smoke like squid ink, and Cassie coughed before lunging forwards. Her hands closed on empty air, and she scowled. “Just great.”

 

**Gotham City**

**October 8, 03:05**

Tim woke up to a bomb handcuffed to his wrist. He blinked a few times, looking around to get his bearings- he was in some kind of warehouse, and it looked empty. No guards, just a whole lot of explosives.

Thirty seconds left on the largest bomb. He didn’t waste time pulling on the handcuffs, although he allowed himself half a second to be nervous. Then he went to work disarming it, working feverishly fast. If he got this bomb, he’d probably have a little while before the others went off. 

Twenty seconds left. Tim hesitated before ripping out another wire, frowning in concentration. He realized that the smaller bombs were wired to this one, ready to detonate as soon as the timer stopped. That could be a problem.

Fifteen seconds left. 

An arm went around his neck, immobilizing his head and pulling him back. “Stay still if you want to live,” said a distorted voice, and Tim tried to twist around.  _ Was that the Red Hood?  _ “You  _ want  _ to die? I said hold still,” growled the Red Hood as he unlocked the handcuffs with a small key. He grabbed Tim in both arms and ran for the window with long, bounding strides, jumping right before the explosives detonated.

There was a blast that seemed like it shook the sky, and they were falling as sparks rained down around them. The Red Hood landed with a  _ clang  _ on the hood of a car on the street below, and Tim winced as he was dropped unceremoniously on the pavement. “That must be murder on your knees,” he said.

“My God, it can talk,” drawled the Red Hood, as he slumped against the smashed car. He was breathing hard, chest heaving, and didn’t seem to notice the small chunks of burning rubble raining down on him. “Listen, kid, working for the Bat’s gonna get you killed one of these days.” He wheezed a little as he talked, cradling his side.

“Batman needs a Robin,” said Tim simply.

Jason sighed, wincing at the pain in his side. He thought a rib had been cracked during the fight with the gangsters. He looked at the replacement kid, and shrugged. He was wearing a mask under his helmet anyway, he figured, so he pulled off the helmet and tucked it under one arm. The night air was cool on his sweaty face.

Tim tilted his head as he looked at the face of the Red Hood- or what was visible of it, anyway. The man looked about seventeen or eighteen, and looked as if he hadn’t seen the sun in years. His face was gaunt, with hollow cheeks and pale, feverish eyes beneath a dark green domino mask. Dark bangs, peppered with narrow white streaks, hung over his forehead, and his hair looked as if it had been roughly trimmed with a knife.

Surreptitiously, Tim pressed the button inside his glove and took a picture of the Red Hood’s exposed face. The young man panted for a few moments before giving him a wide, crooked smile and slipping the helmet back on. 

“Break time’s over. This is the part where you try to stop me and I beat the shit out of you.”

Tim furrowed his brow, confused. “You just saved me,” he said. 

“Yep. And you’re still going to try and arrest me, aren’t you? Like I said, that makes it the part where I b-”

“No,” said a voice from a nearby alley, and Bruce stepped into the yellow glow of a streetlight. His cape billowed out around him, giving him an impressive silhouette in the dim light. “It’s not that part.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing the fic, so from now on I'll be posting chapters just about every day until they're all posted! :D
> 
> Cassie's interactions with Jason are loosely based off of his interactions with Onyx in the comic. Loosely. Cassie's pretty fun to write, which is the main reason why I opted to use her for this scene when I really should've just used M'gann. (But hey, Jason's weird spiritual All Caste training might let him sense Martians or something.)


	6. Face to Face/Fist to Fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce and Jason meet face to face for the first time in a very, very long time.

**Gotham City**

**October 8, 03:10**

“I want the truth,” said Bruce, and Jason tilted his head, whipping a pair of throwing stars out of his jacket. He hurled them in a smooth movement, and Bruce dodged out of the way as they sank deep into the fence behind him.

“You know the truth,” yelled Jason, running down the alley. No sign of Bruce.  _ How does he do that? It doesn’t matter right now.  _ Lightning forked across the sky, and the cobblestones rumbled with the crash of thunder. How very cliché. 

A grappling wire shot out of the shadows, wrapping around Jason’s feet. “So fast,” said Jason, as Bruce yanked him onto his back. “But you’re not the only one with toys.” He rolled, whipping out a knife and shearing through the thick wire as easily as if it were butter. In the shadows, Bruce’s eyes narrowed. He spun, three small, marble-like spheres bouncing across the street to land at Jason’s feet.

“Crap,” said Jason, and they exploded. He was flung into the air, heat washing over him. It was unpleasantly familiar, and he almost forgot to twist and grab onto the nearest drainpipe. He clung to it, feet swinging for a moment before he swung himself onto the roof and rolled. 

He moved at a relaxed jog, although with Bruce coming closer, a large and pointed silhouette framed in lightning, something inside screamed out  _ run, you idiot.  _ He wasn’t here to run, he was here to fight. 

Bruce leapt. Jason dodged, and another of his knives drove into Bruce’s cape where the hem trailed along the roof. He landed three savage punches, and his knuckles ached from the force of them. He could smell blood.

Tearing himself free, Bruce delivered a crushing blow to Jason’s head. The helmet absorbed most of the shock, but he still staggered, dropping to the ground and rolling away from Bruce. The roof was slick and cold with rain.

Jason grabbed his knife, slipping under Bruce’s raised arms and stabbing towards his throat. The fabric tore, but his blade glanced off of the body armor beneath, just as he had expected. (He didn’t really want Bruce dead- not yet, anyway. The plan wasn’t done.) Bruce punched him again, but this time Jason grabbed the cowl and pulled as the wind was knocked out of him. The dark cloth came away in his hand, heavier than he would have expected. He had dropped his knife somewhere. No matter, though, he had more.

Rain ran down Bruce’s face- or were those tears?  _ He wouldn’t care enough for that,  _ Jason reminded himself, and leapt to the sloped side next roof. It was the roof of a church, he figured, from the blank-eyed statues looming overhead. The shingles were slippery underfoot, but climbing a few feet allowed Jason to heave himself onto the wide, flat top of the roof.

Again, lightning tore through the sky, very close by.

“I guess we should keep it even,” said Jason as Bruce landed a few feet away, his eyes cold. He reached up and slipped off his helmet, tossing it lightly to let it bounce along the roof. Bruce put a foot on it, his eyes fixed on Jason.

“Jason.”

“The one and only.”

“I don’t want to fight you,” growled Bruce.

“All evidence to the contrary.”

“Jason, we can  _ help _ you.”

“You and who, Dick? No way you told anyone else I was back.”

Bruce scowled, not meeting Jason’s eyes. (Jason wanted to scream,  _ look at me, look at what happened to me, you can’t even face your own damn mistakes,  _ but he stayed silent, smiling softly.) With a sigh, Bruce said, “Dick figured it out for himself. Tim doesn’t know yet.”

“Tim?” asked Jason. “That must be the replacement kid who’s standing right behind you looking like he just saw a ghost.” He raised his voice a little as Bruce spun around to look at Tim, who was standing dumbstruck on the edge of the roof. “I’m no ghost, kid.”

“How did...how did you come back?” Tim asked, stepping forwards and around Bruce. 

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Jason shrugged casually, staring off into the rain. “They tell me I crawled out of my grave without higher brain functions. I wouldn’t know. First I remember, I was in a Lazarus Pit.”

“A Lazarus Pit?” whispered Bruce. Jason could see the horror dawning in his eyes, and his smile inched just a little wider, more manic.

“Talia al Ghul felt  _ guilty,  _ I think,” he said. “Anyway, there I was, and let me tell you suddenly remembering your own death and resurrection is not a pleasant experience.” He was shivering, even though he hardly noticed, and his tongue felt thick. He swallowed, tasting the memory of ash coating his mouth. “I don’t really care how I got out of my grave in the first place, but I suppose it was because I still have a job to do.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “What job is that?”

“To save this city,” said Jason, as if it were simple as waking up in the morning. (Which was never simple, of course, when the light was too bright for your eyes and the ghosts of nightmares grabbed at you and your mouth tasted like blood and ash.) “To be a  _ better  _ Batman.”

“You’re ruling through intimidation and murder,” snarled Bruce, and leapt forwards. “You’re just another criminal.” He was fast, maybe faster than Jason, and Jason couldn’t block all his punches. Instead of trying, he took a few, blocked a few on his forearms, dodged a few. Let Bruce open himself up to counterstrikes, hitting with the knees and elbows. 

He drew another knife, slipping behind Bruce and locking him in a chokehold. “Maybe,” he growled, as Bruce caught the hand holding the knife. The bones in his wrist ground together, and he winced. “But I’m what this city  _ needs.” _ Anger bubbled up in him, burning and stinging and  _ powerful,  _ and he forced his hand away from Bruce’s, driving the blade down towards his eye.

Bruce slipped away, and Jason staggered. Something slammed him in the back,  _ hard,  _ and he rolled forwards several feet.  _ Forgot about the replacement. Have to get him out of the way.  _ He spun and tackled the boy, pinning him to the ground as they skidded across the wet roof. It was still raining, and the wind was icy cold.

This kid was  _ thin,  _ not skinny and malnourished like Jason had been, just small. Not too much muscle on him. A knee jabbed into Jason’s solar plexus, and he gasped a little before jumping to his feet, still holding the Robin by the throat.

“Jason, stop this,” rumbled Bruce behind him, his voice clearly audible even above the roar of the wind and rain. Jason glanced over his shoulder and the Robin wrenched himself away, kicking Jason hard in the chin. His head snapped upwards, and pain shot down his neck.

Another look showed him that Bruce was holding the helmet in his hands, almost unthinkingly.  _ Good.  _ It was time to end this. If Bruce died, that was a bit of a loss to the plan, but killing the Joker himself wouldn’t be too bad either. And if Bruce lived, the plan could go as usual. 

He drew the remote from his pocket, leaping back along the roof as Robin lunged for him, and pressed the button. 

There was an explosion, and he flipped backwards and over the railing as a pillar of flame shot up from the church roof.  _ Pillar of flame,  _ he thought, and snickered a little as he skidded down the shingles and jumped to the next building. Nobody followed him- he supposed Bruce might have been hurt in the blast, and the Robin would be paying attention to Bruce.

Good. He fired a grappling cord across the street and swung away, fading into the icy fog.

 

**Gotham City**

**October 8, 04:45**

_ “All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you.”  _

The blankets were a little rough against Jason’s skin. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now everything seemed very magnified- the splash of tires through puddles on the street below, the yellow glow of the streetlights leaking through the window, the sound of the pages turning. This was really more of a kids’ book, but he needed something to calm down and  _ For Whom The Bell Tolls  _ sure wasn’t gonna cut it.

As he read, he ate. A sandwich and coffee, so hot it very nearly scalded his tongue and loaded with sugar and milk. He’d picked up some food on the way back to his apartment, but it all tasted like swallowing fire. He gulped painfully, eating more and more of the sandwich in a mechanical movement.

At least the coffee tasted alright. After a few moments, he set it down with the remains of the sandwich and focused on the book. It was a little old, and the pages were soft and not crisp. He liked books better that way.

Sirens wailed below him, and he stood, folding the corner of a page to mark his spot. He squinted through the shutters and saw the Batmobile roaring after… the Scarecrow, probably, and disappearing around a corner. A night in the life of Batman and Robin- one enemy escapes, another one is already causing trouble across town.

He went back to reading, assuming that the situation was well under control. A corner of his mind still worked, remembering schedules and locations he had forced out of one of Black Mask’s men. Tomorrow, he’d blow up a few trucks, steal some supplies, and generally cause trouble. He’d been neglecting that part of his job lately.

And then for the next step of the Plan.

In a few hours, the sun began to rise, or it would have been rising if you could see it through the smog. The streets glowed a pale gold, as did the cold smog, and the sounds outside began to gain intensity again.

_ “He reached the top of the bank in a single, powerful leap. Hazel followed; and together they slipped away, running easily down through the wood, where the first primroses were beginning to bloom.”  _

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! (Although the next one is going to be impressively long, nearly twice the length of the average chapter. It's the one that kicks off the endgame.) I'm finishing up the epilogue and planning out the next fic in the series right now~ I'll probably need a beta reader, if anyone's interested.


	7. Do Not Go Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason finds the Joker.
> 
> He is a little boy in a cape bleeding out on a dirty floor.
> 
> He is a man with ice-chip eyes, holding a bloody crowbar in the moonlight.
> 
> He remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so just a few notes at the beginning~ the second half of this chapter, starting with the first Ethiopia flashback, contains a lot of those "graphic depictions of violence" that are in the warnings. Also, Jason is experiencing some near-constant flashbacks for a few scenes.

**Gotham City**

**October 9, 23:30**

It wasn’t hard to find the Joker. Jason read the papers- he’d escaped from Arkham again, a few weeks ago. Gone into hiding for a while, nobody had seen him in months. Most likely, he was going to pull something big soon. He wouldn’t be at the Funhouse if he was keeping a low profile, but Jason checked anyway. He did find a few of the Joker’s old gang, and figured he could squeeze some information out of them. (Turns out he didn’t need to do anything much to them, as soon as they realized that the  _ Red Hood _ was holding them at gunpoint they spilled everything they knew. Jason was going to let them go, he  _ was, _ but the anger bubbled up inside them again and he shot them both before he realized what he was doing.)

Turned out the Joker was hiding in a closed-up bit of the sewers, which was decked out every bit as garishly as the old funhouse had been. He didn’t notice when Jason came in, but he certainly started paying attention when the room filled up with gas and the rest of his thugs collapsed. Slowly, the Joker turned, and Jason fought back a shudder as he looked into the eyes that had haunted him for years. He bit the inside of his cheek to give himself something to focus on, and his mouth filled up with coppery blood.

“The ‘Red Hood.’ I was wondering when you’d show your face- or helmet, whatever. You know, back when  _ I  _ was the Red Hood, I like to think I brought a certain-”

After a few seconds, gas overwhelmed him, and he crumpled to the ground. Jason barked a short, humorless laugh. “Bet you thought you had something to counteract that stuff,” said Jason, without looking at the unconscious Joker. “Probably would’ve worked on anything that Batman uses, but I mixed this up myself.”

There was a scrap of cloth on the wall, pinned there by a bright dart. Jason’s Robin  _ R,  _ faded almost to white and very tattered. Jason gritted his teeth and grabbed the Joker, hauling him up onto the dark streets. 

He pulled a lighter from his jacket, flicked it into a bright orange flame, and tossed it over his shoulder, where it clattered down the manhole he had pried open to get down into the Joker’s lair in the first place. After a moment, there was a  _ whoosh,  _ and the street trembled as a pillar of flame shot out of the manhole.

“Good riddance,” said Jason.

 

**The Watchtower**

**October 9, 22:00**

“A Lazarus Pit?” Dick asked, frowning. “I can’t believe Ra’s allowed…”

“Talia probably acted on her own,” said Bruce. He and Dick and Tim and Zatanna were walking through the memorial garden, and he spent a minute to look at the holographic image of Jason. He looked peaceful and very young, not at all like the haggard, angry man they had fought on the roof of a Gotham church less than twenty-four hours before.

“He could have Lazarus sickness,” suggested Bruce. 

“Lazarus sickness is just a theory,” Zatanna protested. 

Dick walked to the glass windows and leaned his forehead against them, staring down at the planet below. He looked back over his shoulder and shook his head. “I don’t think it was the resurrection that was the problem. I’ll bet it was the dying.”

“And now he wants revenge on Batman for letting him die,” said Tim pensively. “And also, apparently, he wants to be a mob boss.”

“He thinks he can cure Gotham by cutting out part of it,” said Bruce. He paced back and forth, boots crunching on the gravel of the paths. “I need to confront him. To stop him before it’s too late.”

“We can help,” said Dick, pulling away from the window, and Tim nodded silently.

“No, you can’t.”

“Bruce, he probably blames me, too, I was the one who let him leave without backup-”

“You can’t just cut us out of this, it’s a family ma-” Tim glanced at Bruce’s rigid face and fell silent, scuffing the toe of one boot in the gravel. He looked up towards the hologram of Jason and sighed.  _ Family matter. That I’m not part of. _

By the time Tim had looked back, Bruce was gone, nearly on the other side of the memorial garden with his cape swishing against the plants. Dick ran after him, still protesting, but Tim sighed and turned to the window.

Zatanna watched him for a moment. “Do you need anything?” she asked.

“I’ll just stay here for a while.”

“If it  _ is  _ Lazarus madness that infected Jason, there’s a small chance I could reverse it.” She sighed, her face looking much older than nineteen. “He was such an energetic boy...but he just had too much compassion, and it made him so angry.” 

“You could reverse it?”

“Maybe. I don’t want to tell anyone else,” she said softly. “It’s not… very likely.”

 

**Somewhere Above Gotham City**

**October 10, 22:30**

“Master Bruce,” said Alfred, his voice a little staticy through the communications wire, “You have an incoming communication from- from the Red Hood,” he corrected himself carefully. 

“Put it on.”

_ “Hey, Bruce. I have the Joker. Meet me in Crime Alley-” _

“You’re lying,” growled Bruce.

_ “Why would I lie about something like that?”  _ Jason chuckled, and his throaty laugh was immediately drowned out by the wild, broken-glass cackle of the Joker. Bruce gritted his teeth, reaching forwards to terminate the connection.

_ “Like I said,”  _ called Jason, raising his voice over the Joker’s laughter,  _ “Okay, you shut up, some of us are working here- like I said, meet me in Crime Alley. Midnight. Gives both of us a few hours to get ready.” _

“This ends tonight, Jason.”

_ “Damn right.”  _ Before Bruce could cut off the connection, it fizzled into static. He sighed, turning towards the Batcave. 

“Do we have a fix on the signal?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. He scrambled it thoroughly, but it should take no more than a few minutes to decode. Master Timothy would be able to do it faster.”

“Tim’s not on this case. Neither is Dick.” Even if it had taken knocking him out and leaving him back on the Watchtower to keep him from following. No doubt Jason would expect him to arrive early, but if Jason was hidden in one of the ramshackle buildings that framed the twisting alley, he would be difficult to find.  _ He’s going to kill the Joker,  _ thought Bruce,  _ And if he knows I know that he’s also using the Joker as bait. For me. _

As promised, after a few minutes Alfred had a set of coordinates that confirmed Jason was indeed in Crime Alley. Bruce admitted to himself that he was nervous, unsure what exactly Jason would do when confronted with both Bruce and the Joker.

 

**Ethiopia**

**Five Years Ago**

_ In just a few minutes,  _ thought Jason,  _ Batman will be here. Just have to hold on until then.  _ He couldn’t really feel the impact of the crowbar any more, compared to the searing pain of his shredded muscles. Every so often, something would crack, sending a new, stabbing bolt of pain across his body. 

He couldn’t think much any more, but he was aware that the beating had stopped. Jason weakly tried to push himself off his stomach, but his hands slid in something slippery and wet and he crashed back onto his face, halfway rolled on one side.

His mother, still chained to a shelf, screamed out something that he couldn’t understand. He didn’t look at her, his eyes fixed on the Joker and the crowbar.

The Joker was still standing over him, and Jason blinked through tear-blurry eyes as the crowbar rose above him. It was dripping deep red, and in the moonlight the metal shone pale silver. It was the only thing he could look at, even though he tried desperately to turn away-

The crowbar whipped through the air and struck the side of Jason’s jaw, and he felt the  _ crack  _ through his bones. Another tooth came loose, and he spat it onto the ground with a mouthful of blood.

“Oooh, that looked like it  _ really  _ hurt,” snickered the Joker. He swung again, this time hitting Jason in the ribs. Something splintered, and Jason gasped, choking on the blood welling up in the back of his mouth. “Wait a minute- that looked like it hurt a lot more. So, tell me-”

 

**Crime Alley**

**October 10, 22:00**

Jason was halfway in the past and halfway in the present, blurring between himself  _ then,  _ trying desperately to hold onto life by his fingernails, slipping in the blood on the dirty linoleum floor, and himself  _ now,  _ swinging a crowbar with almost mechanical movements. Blood dripped down around him.

This floor was made of wood, and the blood blended in better. The Joker had been laughing, at the beginning. Then he had been screaming, for a few minutes. Now, he was silent, and Jason snapped himself into the moment long enough to kick the clown’s ribs and check that he was still responsive.

“I  _ do  _ know you from somewhere,” said the Joker weakly. He rolled onto his back to study the helmet, with an exaggerated frown. ( _ In the past, the Joker reaches down and ruffles Jason’s hair, and Jason spits blood into his face. His grin turning to a hiss, the Joker slams Jason’s face into the floor and he can feel his nose break again. It is getting so hard to breathe, and Jason coughs and chokes feebly on blood and vomit. Somewhere, his mother is crying in great, raw sobs.) _

Jason swayed on his feet and pushed himself out of the past, driving the straight end of the crowbar into the Joker’s side. He wasn’t choking, but the copper taste of blood lingered like an echo on his lips. “Sure,” said Jason. Tossing the crowbar aside-  _ (In the past, the Joker drops the crowbar onto the ground, and it clatters dully. It is dark and sticky, and bright red where the moonlight shines on it. It is all Jason can see. He can’t even turn his head anymore. His mother has stopped crying, and he thinks she is unconscious. He wishes, distantly, that he were unconscious)-  _ he reached up and slipped off his helmet.

“Now,” said Jason, brushing back his patchwork hair and looking at the Joker from behind the black domino mask so similar to the one he wore as Robin, “Tell me. How does that feel?”

 

**Ethiopia**

**Five Years Ago**

“And tell the big man I said  _ hello,”  _ whispered the Joker, his foul breath in Jason’s nose. Jason didn’t move, his eyes half-closed but staring vacantly at the wall. Not too many minutes ago, he stopped being able to feel all but the most savage blows, and the Joker must have gotten bored.  _ Batman will come for me,  _ he thought.  _ He’ll save my mother, too. _

As soon as the door closed, Jason was moving, twisting himself so that his handcuffs were in front of him. As he moved, every bone in his body screamed out, and he wheezed, blood splattering across the walls. He fumbled with the lock on his mother’s chains, and she blinked down at him, confused.

“Just go,” she said. “Save yourself. I don’t-”

Something beeped, and Jason turned, rolling slowly and painfully onto his side to see a bomb. More than one bomb, a whole wall of them. All counting down second by second. “Sorry,” he told his mother, in between wet, rasping coughs. His vision was blurring, and he sank to the floor, retching weakly. “Couldn’t...get you out.”

The bombs flashed a wall of bright  **:)** and Jason closed his eyes. The last thing he saw was red, light blazing through his closed eyelids as if he were looking at the sun. His skin turned to ash, and his mouth was full of fire.

**Crime Alley**

**October 10, 20:30**

The Joker was still alive, but only barely. ( _ In the past, Jason twists his legs, slipping his cuffs, and his broken ribs break through the skin under his uniform and tear new, bloody holes. He cries out, a hoarse, raw scream, and now that there is no Joker to hear he feels no shame for it.)  _ Jason sighed and dragged the semi-conscious body into a chair, tying him down firmly. No use in having him choke on his own blood, he needed to be  _ alive  _ for the last part of the plan.

Of course, he didn’t need to be alive for very much longer.

“Dead...man walking,” coughed the Joker, straightening up a little. Jason wondered if he had any duct tape to put over the bastard’s mouth. “I’m still alive.”

“Yes,” Jason said flatly. He picked up the book he had brought to pass the time until midnight. Still a good few hours left, probably enough for him to finish the book. 

“Why?” asked the Joker, leaning forwards. Jason didn’t need to look at him to know that a wide grin was spreading across his ruined face. “You can’t do it, can you? You can’t send me up to the big funhouse in the sky.”

“The real joke here is that you think you’d go to heaven,” said Jason, opening the book. It was one he hadn’t read before, but he’d meant to look into it for...well, a long time. He’d gotten blood on the pages, and he frowned. 

“I bet you’ll just patch me up and set me loose, just like dear old Batsy-”

Jason twisted, slipping a knife out of his sleeve and hurling it towards the Joker. It pierced through the purple suit, pinning the man to the wall by his shoulder. More blood was welling up where the point had driven home. 

A dangerous softness crept into his voice as he said, “Like always, like every minute of your damned, psychotic, posturing life, you assume that this is all about  _ you.  _ You’re nothing but  _ bait,  _ a worm on a hook.” Idly, he flicked the hilt of the knife and more blood spurted out. “And I beat the hell out of you, Pagliacci, because it was too much fun not to.”

He pulled the knife out and tossed it away, slapping a medicinal patch on the Joker’s shoulder. Settling down with his book, he began to read to himself, flicking the drops of blood off the pages as he went. The book began,  _ “They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.” _

The Joker started to laugh after a while, and Jason frowned, standing up and closing the book. He dropped it onto a table with peeling paint and stepped towards the Joker. “What’s the joke this time?” he asked, twirling a knife between his fingers.

“You saw that it was more fun on  _ my side of the street,”  _ said the Joker softly, then burst into laughter again. The sound grated on Jason’s ears, and he tightened his jaw. “The Bat must be absolutely  _ livid,  _ my-”

“Shut up,” snarled Jason.

“Why?”

“Because I know a secret. A good one.”

The Joker leaned forwards again, his smile wide and perhaps just a little bit strained. “Loves me a secret,” he crooned, in a high, false voice. “Do tell?”

“You’re not nearly as crazy as you’d like us all to believe,” said Jason, his smile nearly as broad as the Joker’s. He’d worked this out long ago, back when he was still Robin. Maybe Bruce had never understood it, but he always had. 

“You’re not even as crazy as  _ you’d  _ like to believe. It just makes it easier to justify every sick, monstrous thing you’ve done when you play the part of the mad clown."

The smile inched off of the Joker’s face, and his eyes narrowed. Jason added, in a little more than a whisper, “You’re crazy, sure. But you ain’t  _ that  _ crazy.” He paused, leaning back. “Well, look at that. I wiped a smile off Joker’s face. I’ve been waiting a  _ long  _ time to do that.”

And Jason started to laugh, a deep laugh from the bottom of his chest. 

He pulled out a gun and put it to the Joker’s temple, picking up his book in the other hand. “Now, you stay quiet, crazy man. I’m reading.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my longest chapter yet in my longest fic yet! (This one was over 2000 words.) Leave a review and tell me how you liked it~
> 
> Also, most of this chapter was loosely based around the comic rather than the movie, especially Jason's little "you're crazy, but you ain't that crazy" speech. Which they totally should have had in the movie because it's great.


	8. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Robin and the Joker make three.
> 
> Dick and Tim and Jason also make three.
> 
> Time for the final step of Jason's plan, and time for the final confrontation...for now.

**Crime Alley**

**October 11, Midnight**

Bruce remembered when he had first met Jason, a small boy with ribs standing out beneath a shirt too thin for the winter in Gotham. _Just here, where the balcony makes a little shelter from the rain, he was trying to drag the tires he’d taken off the Batmobile underneath it._ There wasn’t freezing rain pouring from the sky, like there had been before, but the fog was bitterly cold.

“Hello, Bruce,” said Jason’s voice, warped and deepened by the helmet over his face. Bruce turned, and his cape fluttered in the silvery fog. Almost too late, he ducked to the side, and a throwing star embedded itself in the mortar of the wall behind his head.

“Jason,” he said, and hadn’t finished even the word before he was moving. He lunged forwards, a weighted grapple snaking around Jason’s legs. The young man was too slow to dodge, and he grunted as the heavy cord yanked his legs from under him. He fell on his face, splashing in the puddles left from the night’s earlier rainstorm.

“So quick,” whispered Jason, with something like awe, and his knife flashed in the dim light. Bruce ran forwards, punching Jason in the chest with a short, savage strike. Jason coughed, a short, startled sound, and rolled to the side, throwing a short blade over his shoulder. Again, Bruce dodged, taking a step backwards as Jason circled, wary.

Three smoke bombs bounced across the street, landing between Jason’s feet. He hadn’t even seen Bruce _move._ Amazing. “Crap,” he said after a moment, and the bombs exploded with enough force to throw him across the alley, into a wall. His back hit the stones with a sharp crack, and pain ran jaggedly down his spine.

 _Ow._ Bruce burst out of the fog, cape flared behind him, and Jason barely ducked out of the way. He leapt, kicking off of a dumpster and grabbing a windowsill to pull himself up. From ledge to ledge, the stone crumbling under his feet if he hesitated too long, he made his way higher. A glance downwards showed that Bruce was following, a fluttering black shadow pressed against the side of the apartment building. (If the building hadn’t been abandoned, he would wonder what people were thinking as Bruce leapt past their windows. As it was, the whole place was already condemned, nobody had lived there for weeks. Another section of drainpipe came away under Jason’s hands, and he dropped down onto a rusty fire escape platform.)

Jason jumped to a window and kicked it open, slipping inside. In less than a second, Bruce was on him, grabbing his shoulders and wrenching off his helmet. “Jason, you have to-”

“Nope,” said Jason, and twisted, trying to kick Bruce. His head was slammed against the tile wall, splintering the tiles. They clattered on the floor, and Jason wrenched an arm free to grab a shard like a dagger and stab it into Bruce’s arm. It shattered on the body armor, and Bruce smashed him into the wall again, so hard his vision went black for a second and the wall broke under his weight. As they fell forwards, Jason twisted, throwing off Bruce, along with his jacket, and landing heavily on his side. He pulled a pistol from his belt, trying to ignore the trembling in his hands.

“Jason,” said Bruce, more softly this time. He rose to his feet, and Jason shifted against the rough wooden floor. It creaked under his weight. (Hopefully the explosives wouldn’t detonate early.) “Jason, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t save you-”

And Jason laughed, a cold, sharp sound that sounded strange as it forced its way out of his throat. He climbed to his feet, the gun still trained on Bruce. “I don’t know what clouds your judgement worse- your guilt, or your antiquated sense of morality. Bruce, I _forgive you._..for not saving me.”

There was a tiny quaver in his voice that he couldn’t stop. “But why, why on God’s earth, is _he still alive?”_ Jason struck out with a booted foot, smashing down the door to the closet that he had shoved unconscious Joker into. The man was awake now, blood dripping from his grinning mouth, and his eyes seemed wilder and brighter than usual. He laughed, straining against the ropes that tied him to a rickety chair.

“Gotta give the boy points,” rasped the Joker, blood bubbling up in his throat. He somehow wriggled enough to shift the chair out of the closet and across the splintered floor. “He came all the way back from the dead to make this shindig happen! So, who’s got a camera?”

 _Best to let him talk, for now,_ thought Jason. It would be too much trouble to shut him up, even when his voice made Jason’s skin crawl. He gritted his teeth, and thought he could see something very like pity in Bruce’s eyes. _Save your sympathy, and do something useful for a change,_ he thought bitterly.

“Oooh, get one of me and the kid first, then you and me, then the three of us, then one with the crowbar, then-” _Enough,_ thought Jason, and kicked the back of the Joker’s head, knocking him and the chair onto the floor. He skidded for a ways, and Jason stepped towards him, forgetting Bruce for a moment.

“You be as quiet as possible, or I’ll put one in your lap first.”

“Party pooper. No cake for you.”

Jason stood, looking at Bruce again. The older man hadn’t moved, and would have looked like a statue if his cape wasn’t rippling from the draft coming in the broken window. “Ignoring what _he’s_ done in the past, blindly, stupidly disregarding the entire graveyards he’s filled, the thousands who have suffered- you know, I thought-”

Jason’s voice was cracking more, now, shaking as badly as his hands. He spoke more softly, trying not to choke up from the emotions welling up in his chest, more than he’d felt since the Lazarus Pit. “I thought I’d be the last person you’d ever let him hurt.” His shoulders sagged, and he lowered the gun. “If it had been you that he’d beaten into a bloody pulp, if he had taken you from this world, I would have done _nothing_ but search the planet for this _pathetic_ pile of _evil, death-worshipping garbage_ and sent him off to hell!”

“You don’t understand,” said Bruce, his lips barely moving. He didn’t step forwards, but as Jason raised the gun again, his face twisting with rage, he didn’t step away, either. “I don’t think you’ve ever understood.”

“What?” Jason snarled. “What, your moral code just won’t allow for that? It’s too hard to cross that line?”

“No! God almighty, _no._ ” Before Bruce could say anything more, another window smashed open and Dick swung in, with Tim just behind him. Jason took a wary step backwards, pulling another gun from his belt and pointing it down at the Joker. _I’ll shoot,_ he dared them with his pale, pale eyes.

“Jason,” said Dick, quietly. “You know why we don’t kill.”

“There’s no _we_ here,” said Jason, and his eyes under the domino mask were beginning to brim with tears he couldn’t hold back. “I see two men who didn’t even care enough to avenge my death, and I see some little kid that you _replaced_ me with.”

Tim looked down at the dirty floorboards.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bruce said, his voice low. “Once you cross that line, you never come back.”

“Why not? I’m not talking about killing Penguin, or Scarecrow, or Dent-” even though he would, he could, he’d kill all of them if it meant Gotham could be safe and whole, but Bruce doesn’t have to, Bruce only has to kill the Joker- “I’m talking about killing _him._ Just him. And doing it- because- because- _he took me away from you.”_

There was a long pause before Bruce said, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Jason looked to Dick, who shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Well,” said Jason, feeling very cold, as if his mind had come a little detached from the rest of him, “You won’t have a choice.” He didn’t blame Dick, not so much. So he didn’t throw the gun to Dick. He threw it to Bruce, who fumbled it and looked nearly ready to toss it away.

In a quick movement, Jason stomped on the chair the Joker was tied to, smashing it to splinters. He dragged the Joker upright, wrapping an arm around his neck, and pressed the barrel of the gun to his head. _I could kill him myself,_ thought Jason for a moment. He didn’t pull the trigger, though.

“This is what it’s all been about,” he said, voice growing to nearly a scream. He hated how desperate he sounded, but he didn’t know how to change his voice. He didn’t even really know how to think, abstracted from his body and from his shaking hands, like he was watching from a long way away. Dick was moving, trying to circle behind him, and Jason turned his head and narrowed his eyes in a quiet warning. “You, and me, and him. If you want to stop me, you’re gonna have to kill me.” He gripped the Joker a little tighter, holding the villain in front of him as a shield. “I’m gonna blow his deranged brains out!” He was shouting now, but it sounded echoey and hollow, like listening to his own voice from a room away. “And if you want to stop me, you’re gonna have to _shoot me._ Right in my face!”

“This is turning out even better than I’d hoped,” wheezed the Joker.

Bruce dropped the gun, which clattered to the ground, and turned away. _He’s not even bothered,_ thought Jason. He turned his gun towards Bruce, keeping a tight hold on the Joker. “Him or me! Decide now!” he shouted, voice cracking. “You have to choose, decide!”

He screamed, a hoarse, raw noise, and fired.

Three things happened at once.

Bruce dodged out of the way, skidding on his side as the bullet shattered a window. Tim hurled a birdarang that hooked into the muzzle of Jason’s gun, blinking a moment before it exploded. The force of the blast shattered the gun, and Jason cried out as he cradled his wounded hand to his chest, dropping the Joker onto the floor.

Dick tackled Jason, and he gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. A second later, his head slammed backwards into the counter, and Dick stood over him, eyes cold. _Hate me,_ thought Jason blearily,  _You should. You always should have._ Behind them, on the floor, the Joker began to laugh.

“You did it,” he cackled, rolling onto his back. “You found a way to win! And get this- everybody still loses!”

For a moment, Dick’s attention had been on the Joker, and when he turned back his eyes widened in horror. Jason held a detonator in his uninjured hand, and he met Dick’s gaze as he pressed down the button, slumping back against the counter.

The fireplace began to beep, and Tim and Bruce tried to rush towards the bombs. The Joker lunged forwards, knocking Bruce to the ground, and Tim hesitated for a moment before reaching for the bombs. “There’s only twenty seconds,” he said as he fiddled with the panelling of the largest, trying to open it.

“Can you disarm them?” asked Dick.

“If I had a minute, I could,” said Tim, tearing open the panel and beginning to carefully rewire the interior. “But I’m not sure-”

“I’m the only one who’s getting what he wants tonight!” shouted the Joker, grappling with Bruce. “Yes! Bing-bang-boom, we all go out together, don’t you just love a happy ending?”

“There’s no time, Tim!” yelled Dick, grabbing the younger boy and sprinting to the broken window. As he went, he glanced back at Jason, worry written in the lines of his face.

"Go!" Bruce threw off the Joker, glancing briefly at the bombs- _three seconds-_ before lunging across the room and grabbing Jason.

Dick and Tim hurtled out of the window and landed in a dumpster below, and Jason crashed down on top of them in a shower of glass shards. “Batman!” shouted Dick, as the explosion rocked the apartment building. The heat seared their faces, and the sound made the dumpster rattle. Burning rubble rained down, and Dick rolled on top of Jason and Tim as bits of brick and glass fell onto them.

“Batman…” whispered Tim.

“Somebody lose a bat?” asked a bright voice behind them.

 

**Crime Alley**

**October 12, 00:30**

“Wally?” Tim asked, sitting up. Wally was leaning against the wall of the shattered apartment, with Bruce standing beside him, looking a little charred but unhurt. Bart appeared a moment later, dragging the unconscious Joker. He grimaced and dropped the unconscious villain onto the ground.

“Good work,” said Dick, pushing himself onto one elbow. He winced and twisted, pulling a three-inch shard of glass out of his side. Splinters and scraps of wood and brick had pierced his suit all along his back and shoulders, and there was ash in his hair.

Taking the opportunity, Jason swung himself out of the dumpster and bolted, splashing through the dirty puddles on the street. Dick frowned, extracting another wooden splinter from the back of his neck. He turned to Wally and Bart. “Get him,” he said flatly, before crumpling back into the dumpster.

Jason heard the crackling behind him and the rush of wind, and kept running. His suit crackled with energy, and Wally was thrown backwards, tumbling across the sidewalk. Nobody was out on the streets this late at night, not in this part of Gotham, but Jason wondered what they would have thought if they had been. “Sorry, Wally,” he called over his shoulder. “Got enough charge in this suit to fry even a speedster.”

“So,” said a voice next to him- the other speedster, the tiny one with the oversized yellow goggles- “Don’t touch the suit? Crash.” He grabbed Jason’s hair and slammed his head into a wall,  _ hard.  _ Jason’s vision blurred, and he staggered, trying to swing a punch at the small speedster. 

“No need for that,” said the speedster brightly. Jason couldn’t think of any name to go with his face, although he knew that this one had been Kid Flash for a while while Wally… he wasn’t really sure what had happened to Wally while he was gone, either. It was all very top-secret.

He felt the tiny speedster grab his head again and moved quickly, clamping a hand around the kid’s wrist. Electricity arced from his gloves, and the speedster screamed and crumpled to the ground, curling into a ball.  _ Weird,  _ thought Jason. Maybe he’d shocked the kid harder than he’d meant to, or maybe the electricity had a stronger effect because he was so small?

Whatever. He turned a sharp corner and leapt onto his motorcycle, racing out onto the streets. The lights of Gotham flashed past, blinking neon signs in blue and green and orange, red lights, green lights, flickering yellow streetlights and white-yellow lights from a few windows that still glowed in the night. Wind ruffled Jason’s hair, and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed. No sign of either speedster. Jason sighed in relief and bent low over the handlebars, his body starting to tremble again from exhaustion and stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary, for those of you who were confused, is based off of the Joker's comment, "Comedy is best in threes...like Batman and Robin and me!" which I didn't get a chance to put into the story but is another one of my favorite quotes from the Under the Red Hood comics.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ending and a beginning. The Team discusses their next move, and Jason leaves Gotham. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Bruce remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two-part update (because I wanted this all posted before I leave town this evening) so if you haven't read the chapter before this be sure to do that now. :D

**Gotham City**

**October 12, 03:15**

Jason was back in the warehouse, picking through the stacks of books he had left last time he visited this place. His jacket was gone, and there were scorch marks on his shirt. He’d need to buy a new one. He turned  _ The Great Gatsby  _ between his hands, noticing that this wasn’t a new book- its cover was worn and the edges of the pages a little grubby. It was old, though.

_ Bruce saved me,  _ he thought, still fiddling with the book. It was a foreign thought. His mind, used to running over  _ Bruce didn’t avenge me, Bruce didn’t care, Bruce replaced me,  _ until the bitter words wore furrows and rattled constantly in the back of his head, almost rejected the thought.

But still, it prickled, growing louder and louder.  _ Bruce saved me. _

He had grabbed Jason and thrown him out the window seconds before the bomb went off. Maybe it was just part of his damned  _ code,  _ but still… it’s not like he had tried to save the Joker. And for all Jason knew, they were both dead now (although he doubted it.) He’d have to check the news later, to find out.

Maybe he would… he didn’t know. He couldn’t stay here, as soon as Bruce recovered he’d have to run for it. Maybe Starling City? He hadn’t really planned for anything past their final confrontation, although to be fair he hadn’t really expected to  _ survive.  _

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He’d need a new helmet, too. Before now, his distinctly altered appearance had been a safeguard against recognition, but since Bruce had seen him he was easy to pick out of a crowd. Probably, Jason thought, he could pick up some hair dye from somewhere.

Jason crossed his legs and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. He set  _ The Great Gatsby  _ down in the small pile of books that he had decided to bring with him when he left Gotham. For the first time in five years, he actually felt tired, eyelids heavy and limbs sluggish.

He slept.

**The Watchtower**

**October 12, 03:20**

“Did he get away?” asked Bart, brushing his hair out of his face as he sat up. He looked around to see most of the rest of the Team around him. They’d set up their wing of the Watchtower very much like the old common room at Mount Justice, with couches everywhere and a large TV screen on the wall (that usually displayed static, but occasionally was used for movie nights.) Dick had called everyone in the night before and told them the truth about the Red Hood, with support from Kaldur and Artemis. It looked like almost everyone had stayed in the common room after that, too nervous or confused to sleep- although Garfield was asleep, draped across the back of one of the couches, and La’gaan looked nearly asleep, his eyes half-closed.

“Yep,” said Wally. He winced as he shifted on his feet. “That suit packs  _ way  _ more of a punch than the Nightwing suit.”

Dick frowned. “Mine’s a work in progress,” he protested. “Anyway, we have bigger problems. We need to track down Jason and, if possible, capture him. I’d say his suit should be out of charge by now, so it should be simple for the two of you to run him down.”

“Do you even  _ want  _ him back?” asked La’gaan. When everyone looked at him, he crossed his arms and shrugged. “I mean, from what you told us, he’s totally psychotic.”

Conner frowned. “Much as I hate to agree…” he muttered, staring at the opposite wall. “He’s dangerous.”

“We’re all dangerous,” argued Jaime.

Dick sighed. At Zatanna’s request, he hadn’t told the rest of the Team that she might be able to reverse Lazarus sickness. And really, it was such a slim likelihood...if Jason didn’t get better, he didn’t know what to do. Unstable, fine. Murderous, less fine.

“Bart, do you...remember anything about this? That you could tell us?”

“Sorry, I think in my future Robin stayed dead.” He shrugged, a quick, small movement. “Not sure what could’ve happened to bring him back.”

“I don’t know enough about his mental state to say that he wouldn’t try to kill whoever we send after him,” said M’gann, worried. Beside her floated Koriand’r, who looked slightly confused by the entire conversation. She spoke up, raising a tentative hand.

“Perhaps I could catch your friend? My existence on this planet is not well known, and it is unlikely that he would have prepared for a Tamaranean.” Her long, gauzy skirt drifted around her as she dropped to the ground, landing gently on the tips of her toes.

“I don’t know about you guys,” said Wally, “but I’d be kind of freaked out by a glowing girl with fire for hair swooping out of the sky and grabbing me. Maybe we try someone who looks a little more...human? I mean, not that you don’t look fine, Kori, you’re just kind of on fire.”

“I think I know a guy,” said Virgil unexpectedly.

 

**Mount Justice**

**Many Years Ago**

“Hey, M’gann. You bake something?” asked Wally brightly, hopping off the couch and racing into the kitchen as M’gann began to levitate several skillets out of the oven. A buttery smell of baking cookies wafted through the base, and more of the Team appeared out of the back rooms.

“Actually, Jason did. He wouldn’t give me the recipe, but they smell  _ amazing.” _

“They’re deep-dish chocolate chip cookies,” said Jason, appearing from the kitchen. He was in civilian clothes, ratty jeans and an oversized red hoodie. “Second best in the world.” 

Dick laughed. “Bet I know who makes the best ones.”

“He said you couldn’t cook,” said Jason with a sly grin.

“Did  _ not.” _

Jason shrugged, and M’gann set down two of the skillets in front of Wally. Spoons were already buried in the golden-brown cookie, smeared with melting chocolate. “Two are for you, and two are for everyone else. That way everyone has enough,” she said.

“Sorry for, um, scratching you in the face,” said Jason, scuffling his feet. 

“I’ll forgive anything for food this good,” answered Wally through a mouthful of cookie, half the skillet already scraped clean. Dick took a tentative spoonful and his eyes widened.

“This is really good,” he said enthusiastically. “Second-best cookies in the whole  _ world.”  _

M’gann took some for herself, and nodded thoughtfully as she chewed the hot cookie. “You sure you won’t give me the recipe?” she asked as Rocket and Artemis appeared, attracted by the rich smell of the cookies.

“I’ll leave it to you in my will,” said Jason. 

(A month after Jason’s death, Dick brought M’gann a scrap of paper scribbled with instructions in the handwriting of at least two different people. It took her a moment to decipher it enough to realize what it was, and when she did she memorized it before tucking it away in the back of a cabinet.)

 

**The Batcave**

**One Eternity Ago**

“Jay, hurry up, let’s go!” called Bruce, smiling. He had heard footsteps behind the computer banks, but continued to stare around the Batcave as if still looking for the boy. “If you can’t suit up quickly at home base, I’m concerned how you would handle it in the field.”

“Perhaps he’s primping,” Alfred suggested. “As I recall, Master Richard spent nearly half an hour in front of the mirror the first time he donned his cape.” 

“Jason! Get out here or I’ll leave without you,” threatened Bruce. He took the coffee that Alfred offered him and calmly took a sip as Jason leapt from the top of the computer banks, crashing down on the floor and nearly losing his balance. 

“Gotcha!” he shouted, hopping back to his feet with a wide grin. 

“Would’ve. If I hadn’t seen you slip behind the computer banks three minutes ago.”

Unfazed, Jason laughed. “Nah, I got you.”

“How does it feel?” asked Bruce. 

Jason kicked at the air, coming dangerously close to the monitors as he spun around and flared the cape behind him. “It feels  _ awesome,”  _ he said, punching at the air. “Check me out, I’m Robin, the Boy Wonder!” He flipped onto his hands and laughed again. “Come on, old man, we’ve got bad guys who need chasing.”

Bruce set down the coffee and followed Jason as the skinny boy tumbled into a forward roll before running towards the Batmobile. “Hurry up or I’ll leave you behind!” called Jason. He swung himself onto the hood and posed for a minute with his hands on his hips. “This is the best day of my life.”

 

* * *

**Alfred’s (and Jason’s) Cookie Recipe**

**Ingredients:**

**1 cup all-purpose flour**

**1/2 teaspoon salt** (Jason sometimes leaves out the salt, arguing that the dough will be sweeter without it. His cookies would be better if he actually did use the salt.)

**1/2 teaspoon baking soda**

**1 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter, softened**

**1/2 cup packed brown sugar** (Alfred uses light, Jason uses dark because he likes the molasses taste. It will only make a small difference in the taste, so use whatever you’ve got on hand.)

**1/3 cup granulated sugar**

**1 teaspoon vanilla extract**

**1 large egg**

**1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips**

Preheat the oven to 375°F. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and baking soda.

In a stand mixer or a large bowl with a handheld electric mixer, beat the butter until creamy, about 1 minute. Add the sugars and beat until fluffy and pale-colored, about 2 minutes. Add the vanilla extract and egg, and beat for 1 minute. Add half the flour mixture and mix on low speed just until dry ingredients are fully incorporated. Repeat with the remaining flour mixture. Using a wooden spoon, mix chocolate chips into batter.

Put the batter in a ceramic dish (or individual ramekins, when dealing with a swarm of Robins who can't share) and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the edges turn dark gold. Jason likes to sprinkle even more chocolate chips on top of the batter before baking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we end with a cookie recipe. (It's a really good cookie recipe I swear.) I haven't decided if the next installment in the series is going to be an Arsenal-centric stand alone or if I'm going to go straight to RHATO, but either way the first chapter should be up in no more than a few weeks.
> 
> Review if you liked this fic! :D (Hell, review if you didn't, let me know what I can change.)


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